


Dogs of SHIELD

by TheGirlInTheB



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Transformations, Clint is an idiot, Concerned Phil Coulson, Corgi!Clint, Dogs, Gen, Get Together, Love Confessions, Lucky is a good dog, M/M, Mentions of Past Animal Abuse, POV Lucky, pizza dog - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlInTheB/pseuds/TheGirlInTheB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucky’s a good dog. Lucky’s a smart dog. Lucky’s human? Not so smart. Like today he didn’t come home. And when he finally did, he was changed into a corgi! Lucky’s gonna do his very best to help get his human back on two legs >:3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love corgis, I love Clint, I love Phil, I love Lucky. I regret nothing.

He may be a one-eyed dog named Lucky but he’s pretty smart.

‘Smart dog.’ Clint says, looking up from the near-empty cupboards as Lucky pads in with the torn half of empty pizza box –the numbers in bright red for Clint to call. They get pizza that night and Lucky licks up stringy cheese and greasy pepperonis. Those are the best nights; with the talking box on, his person’s fingers scratching gently at that sweet spot just behind his ear, his tail thumping against the floor as he licks the last of the grease from the pizza box.

Some days Clint is an idiot though and doesn’t come home. The nice lady next door and her two pups come over and walk him then and he’s especially extra careful to mark everything outside so it’s safe for Clint when he comes home.

This is ours –my human’s dumb and didn’t come home but he’ll be back and it’s still ours so don’t even think about it.

She’s great; the nice lady next door. Sometimes the pups pull his ears and shout a little too loudly, but they pet him all over and laugh when he licks their faces so that’s okay. Sometimes the nice lady next door scoffs when she sees the mess his idiot leaves in the kitchen or the empty pizza box Lucky was saving under the couch.

“Clint, your place is a mess.” She mutters.

Lucky rolls his eye upward to say ‘I don’t know what to do with him’. He’s not sure if the nice lady next door understands him. Humans aren’t always that bright.

Sometimes his person comes home with bandages on him and smelling like chemicals like they have at the V-E-T and Lucky tries his best. He’s a smart dog, after all, and hops up on the bed to sleep next to Clint so he won’t get cold or be scared. It’s easy to be scared when you’re hurt; to feel like you have to act tough because then no one will know you’re hurting and you’ll be safer that way. Maybe if Lucky’s there the idiot won’t have to pretend.

‘M’okay, Luck.’

Lucky loves his human, even if he’s a messy idiot. He saved Lucky from the BROs, gave him a home and found a sound just for him.

He could do a lot worse.

So when his human doesn’t come home one night, Lucky sits sadly by the door and waits for the nice lady next door. She’ll feed him and let him out to pee, and her pups will pull his tail and he’ll know Clint will come home. But tonight the nice lady doesn’t come.

Lucky digs out the pizza box he’s hidden under the couch and chews worriedly before his full bladder makes itself known. He gets up and paces, the thoughts whirling through his head as his bladder insists on relief. The nice lady next door could be late, maybe her pups need to be settled and she’ll be along soon? Maybe his human’s been held up at the People V-E-T because he hit his head again? Yes –Clint will walk through that door soon, tired and smelling like chemicals with a hot pizza box in hand, saying the sound he found just for Lucky.

But the thoughts are becoming drowned by his desperate need to pee.

Lucky’s a smart dog, he knows he can’t pee inside. That would not be good. He did it exactly once and his human wasn’t happy about it. So peeing inside now wouldn’t make him happy either. Of course it’s not Lucky’s idea of a good time. He doesn’t WANT to pee inside –not when there’s perfectly good stuff outside to pee on. When he really needs to mark it so other dogs know it’s his. But his human’s not home and the nice lady next door hasn’t come and…

Desperate times.

Lucky lifts his leg and pees in one of Clint’s shoes. It’s only fair. The idiot didn’t come home and Lucky had to go. With that out of the way he decides to call it a night. Grabbing his chewed pizza box, he heads towards the couch with a sigh.

It’s dawn when his ears perk up. The building is quiet mostly with the sun just coming up through the window casting long pools of light on the floor. The man down the hall is coming home from his late-night job, his boots heavy in the hallway smelling like boxes and freight. In the distance there’s the sound of morning traffic –delivery trucks and early commuters.

Lucky is still and listens, unsure of what woke him until he smells it. Clint! His person!

He’s off the couch and at the window with the fire escape –his tail thumping against the floor. But what he sees sure doesn’t look like his idiot. A small Corgi pup with shivering sides, big perky ears and round eyes looks up at him and Lucky barks once.

What is his human doing outside the window? How come he’s a dog now? Is this something humans do? Lucky’s pretty sure not because the BROs never changed shape, and the nice lady next door doesn’t and neither do her pups…

Maybe the old cat downstairs would know. Cats always seem to know about these kinds of things –they are magical, mysterious creatures. 

Clint barks and looks stricken, his mucky paws come up to push at the window and Lucky boofs back to say ‘it’s going to be alright, I got this’ before taking off towards the door. He can’t open the window himself, or the door, but he knows someone who can.

Lucky’s howl is loud and long and wobbly, his head thrown back as he puts his claws to the door and sings. From somewhere upstairs another dog barks before joining in the harmony. Their voices tangle and echo through the shoddy walls of the apartment making music in the early dawn.

‘I’m here!’ Lucky sings, ‘I’m here!’

‘I’m here!’ sings the dog upstairs, ‘I’m right here too.’

Now, Lucky is a smart dog. He knows that singing is something dogs do best –it’s comforting knowing where everyone is and that they’ve heard you and you’re not alone. But humans? Humans hate it when dogs sing –like their singing is any better. The best way to get a human’s attention is to sing super loud and for just long enough that someone will come and bang on the door and shout ‘Will you shut that damn dog up?’

And Lucky can already hear the feet on the stairs.

“Keep it down!” A man’s voice. The man from upstairs. The man who just got home from work. He sounds upset and Lucky sings louder.

‘I’M HEEEEEERRRE!’

“Shut that dog up!” His hands hit the door and it pops open on the cheap lock that Clint had yet to repair. Lucky dances out past the surprised tired man and down the dim hallway with its threadbare carpet and chipped paint. The fire escape door stays open with a push from his snout and then there’s air. Nice clean-ish outside air that smells of exhaust and cement and warmth from the rising sun. Lucky doesn’t bask in it to drink in the smells of the morning; he’s already padding his way down the steps towards the tired-looking pup –claws clicking on the rusty steps.

Clint looks like he’s been dragged through the dirtiest street he could find and Lucky gives him a good sniff before licking across his small snout. His human balks at this, trying to back up without falling down the stairs. His sides are shivering and damp and Lucky can smell the fear and confusion coming off his human like a stink. Whatever’s happened has upset him.

It’s another day to look after his human it seems. He lets go of a soft huff to say ‘what would you do without me?’ but Clint doesn’t answer.

Lucky puts his jaws to Clint’s scruff –the human squeaking and trying to back up further –his little stubby legs reaching the edge of the step. The big dog tightens his jaws and hoists his human up so he can carry him back inside and up the steps. He can feel the human-turned-pup shivering and trying to get out of the hold weakly but a soft growl from Lucky has him still and limp in his jaws.

‘Don’t even try it’ he hopes that Clint understands. Humans can be thick.

The door is still open as Lucky prances back to the apartment –his tail held high to show how pleased he is. The nice lady from next door is there and the man who just came home from work too. Perfect! They’ll know what to do for his human.

“Told you he’d come back on his own. Clint probably didn’t come home last night -,” The nice lady says, but stops when she sees the pup in Lucky’s jaws. “Are we bringing strays home now, Luck?”

He grunts to correct her –‘this is my human’

“Fuck it, just -the dog’s back and I’m goin’ back to bed.” The man from upstairs waves his hand as he turns his back on the nice lady, making his way to the stairs like he doesn’t care what happens next. His movements stiff and tired, his smell thick with sweat from the boxes he’s been loading late into the night.

“Sure. Thanks, Will.” The nice lady speaks to his retreating back before walking into the apartment. Then “Clint is going to need to get this door fixed, huh, Lucky? Next thing you know this place’ll be an animal shelter.” It’s way too early for her to give a shit about animals Clint’s dog brings home.

Dropping his human to the floor Lucky walks over to the woman and barks. They need food –preferably pizza –and someone needs to fix Clint. But the nice lady next door just pours out two fresh bowls of kibble and extra water.

“Hush, Lucky.” She says as he hurries around her, trying to bring her attention to his transformed human. Her hand comes to push him away so she can tiredly squat down to have a look at the corgi. Lucky reminds himself that it’s not the bad kind of hands, the ones that hit or swat, but the kind that pet and give food. The nice lady from next door won’t hurt him.

Clint shivers; he stinks like fear and Lucky wonders if his human will pee on the floor –he’s sure he’d pee himself if he’d been turned into a two-legged. Clint yips frantically earning a ‘Hush’ of his own, before the nice lady is rising and shaking her head. Lucky keeps his eye on her expectantly, waiting for her to realize the dog is Clint the human.

But she doesn’t.

Instead she’s leaving! She’s walking to the door and Lucky just can’t believe it! He follows her, tail and ears up –worry in his eye. He starts barking as she reaches the doorway. No! She has to fix this! His human needs help!

“I said hush, Lucky.” She says but he keeps whining and barking.

‘This is my human! See? See? He smells the same and he’s all grimy like when he comes home from work!’

But the nice lady makes Lucky stay back as she shuts the door.

‘No, no! Where are you going? You have to come back and fix my idiot!’ But she’s leaving the two dogs in the quiet apartment with the new day fully upon them.

Lucky stands, stares at the door in dismay. He paws scratch lightly on the wood doorframe –like the nice lady could come back, like maybe she could be off to ask the cat downstairs for advice and be back anytime. Because there was no way this was happening. This was not how Lucky imagined this going. Surly the nice lady would know what to do with his human –preferably how to make him two-legged again. Evidently not.

Humans are much thicker that he thought.

And if the fear stink coming off the corgi behind him is any indication his human isn’t sure what to do either. If he did he’d have found a way to fix this already. With a sigh, Lucky turns and goes for the food bowls. This will not be righted on an empty stomach.

After wolfing down the dry kibble he goes back to Clint who looks like a squirrel caught motionless –frozen in place not knowing what direction to go. He still smells like fear though, and the grumbling from his empty belly makes the bigger dog put his snout to Clint’s rump and push him across the tiled floor towards the bowls of food.

At first his human flinches, tries to work his stumpy legs and make some kind of protest but Lucky’s not having it. A full stomach is the first thing Clint needs and he growls softly to tell him to knock it off. When the human’s paws hit bowl Lucky sits beside him and watches as the pup stares at the hard meat-smelling pellets. Sure it’s not like a nice warm pizza or a piece of juicy chicken or steak, but it’s gotta be Lucky’s fourth favorite food. Fifth at least! But when his human looks up at him he huffs and shoves the bowl closer with his nose, sending some kibble bits tumbling to the floor.

When Clint does eat he’s slow and tentative, the hard chow crunching in his teeth before he carefully picks out a few more pieces to chew on. Lucky’s never seen a dog so hesitant to eat before but he’s got bigger things to worry about. If his human is here who will order pizza? Who will scratch behind his ear and let him out to pee? Who will say the sound that his human found for him? Surely the nice lady next door and her pups will keep coming by but really Lucky wants his human back on two legs. It’s just the way it’s supposed to be; Clint would make a lousy dog if the way he’s is slowly picking at the kibble is any indication.

A few hours later, after an unsuccessful nap and trying to teach his human to lift his leg in the shower (his human is a terrible learner and keeps leaving mid-lesson and growling when Lucky hauls him back to the bathroom), they’re day is interrupted by a banging at the door. A man’s voice filters through the apartment calling for Clint –a voice that make’s the corgi’s ears perk up. It’s a voice Lucky knows fairly well as he’s heard it on the phone and once or twice at the apartment.

On the fourth bang the door pops open and Phil Coulson stumbles in with a loud curse. Lucky’s there to meet him, barking and wagging his tail excitedly. Surely Phil Coulson will know how to fix his human! While the man has always smelled like aftershave and cold metal, he’s also held himself with complete confidence. Lucky also knows that Phil Coulson likes his human –like a lot. He’s smelt the arousal on him on the few occasions he’s stopped by. And if Clint’s smell was anything to go by, his human liked Phil Coulson back.

Today the man is wearing his dark suit and jacket that smell like crisp soap and he’s talking into his earpiece. Lucky can make out the faint voice of a woman on the other end. Somehow Phil doesn’t look as pulled together as he usually does; he smells like he was up all night and missed a shower.

“Clint?” He calls. Lucky’s heart skips in his chest.

Perfect! Phil Coulson has come for his human! Phil Coulson will fix Clint and then they’ll have pizza and things will be all better!

Beating a quick retreat Lucky snatches his human up by the scruff of his neck and prances over to Phil Coulson, the man-turned-pup yipping frantically in his jaws. Phil is walking through the apartment from kitchen to bedroom to bathroom –Lucky dancing around his feet with corgi-Clint in tow.

‘Look! Look! It’s my human! See?’ –he whines. ‘He may be dirty and smelly and have four legs, but it’s him!’

“Clint?” Phil calls out as he moves to the bathroom. His nose wrinkles at the sight of the shower –maybe trying to teach his human to pee there wasn’t the best idea. “I don’t see him, Natasha. No. I don’t think he came home.” 

They’ve moved back to the living area and Lucky’s practically tripping Phil up –the dusty blond dog dances just out of the way, avoiding getting his tail trod on.

“Lucky-!” The man smells exasperated as he catches himself. He smells like sweat and anxiety just like Clint had when Lucky found him on the fire escape. “Sorry –no, the dogs are really-, yes, dogs. Plural.”

Dropping his doggy butt to the floor, Lucky puts Clint down at Phil Coulson’s feet. He sits back; his tongue lolls out as he waits for this competent human to work his magic once he’s done with the lady in his ear. From his place on the floor, Clint is…well, torn between shyly hiding himself –like he’s embarrassed to find himself like this in front of this human –and excitedly bouncing all over Phil. 

‘See?’ Lucky barks, ‘it’s my human! See? He’s got that dumb look like he always does.’

But when Phil Coulson crouches down it’s not with any magic words or medicines but with a heavy sigh. His big, calloused hands reach to pat Lucky and Clint.

“I guess I bring them both in, they can’t stay here with Clint gone. Sure –I’ll see you back at the tower.” And then Phil Coulson says the magic words. “Okay, Luck, time for a walk.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lucky loves car rides. Not as much as he loves walks, mind you, but it’s at least his fourth favorite thing after pizza and Clint and a nice long walk. Sometimes Katie-Kate would take him on car rides, or Clint would and they’d go to the park or the V-E-T…

Lucky hopes they’re not going to the V-E-T now -now that they’re already in Phil Coulson’s nice car that smells of warm leather and coffee. Now that he’s sort of stuck. Maybe Lucky should have thought this through. Unless maybe they’re going to the people V-E-T to get his human sorted out.  
Lucky whines from the back seat as Phil Coulson drives down towards the Avengers tower. Beside him on the bench is Clint who is having more trouble adjusting to standing on all fours in a moving vehicle. As Phil takes the corner the little corgi tumbles sideways into Lucky who boofs and noses at his side to get him up.  
It’s strange that his human can still smell like Clint but also like a dog all at once. He’s sure that if the nice lady from next door had half the nose Lucky does that she would have known the little dog was his human right away. 

“You two better not be getting paw prints on my seats.” Phil Coulson looks through the rearview mirror at them. Lucky presses his wet nose to the window in hopes that it will roll down so his human can see how fun it is to have your head out the window of a moving car. He might as well get to see all the joys of life while he’s here before they put him back on two legs and having his head out the window of a moving car has to be Lucky’s fifth favourite thing.

Phil Coulson doesn’t roll down the window. 

The man at the wheel still smells stressed like he did when he broke into their apartment and that makes Lucky a little uneasy. They’d left shortly after Phil had talked to the nice lady from next door. Something about cheep locks and how he’ll be back with the dogs when Clint comes home.  
Good. Phil Coulson seemed sure Clint would come home. They’d get him back to being a two-legged. Everything was going to be okay. 

For now they’d stay with Phil at the tower until Clint was all better. 

Without a leash for Clint, Phil Coulson carries the corgi into the tower from the parking garage –his stumpy corgi paws peddling the air. Lucky follows easily beside them as they take a steal box ride up up up towards the communal floors. From his place in Phil’s arms Clint wriggles and tries to hide his nose in the man’s suit shirt like he’s ashamed of the mess he’s got himself into this time. He should be –Lucky’s not sure how this happened but this is way worse than coming home with bandages and smelling like the people V-E-T. As it is he’s getting his mucky paws and fur all over Phil’s nice suit and tie.  
“It needed to be washed anyhow.” Phil sighs as he notes a perfect paw print on his white dress shirt. His clothes did need a wash –Lucky can smell the sweat and dirt and wear from the previous day on him –like he hasn’t changed into a different set. A little dog fur wouldn’t make much of a difference. Might even help him keep warm –humans have so little fur of their own that it’s only fair for a dog to help out. 

“No luck.” Nat observes when the big elevator doors open and Phil Coulson walks them out into the main living room. Nat reminds Lucky of a cat –a magical creature that made no sound and despite all trace of calm she was ready. Just like the old cat from downstairs –calm but ready to sink its claws into your snout if you got too close. Lucky’s sure that between Phil Coulson and Nat they’ll have his idiot up on two legs in no time. 

“None. His apartment’s clean.” Phil says, “Or as clean as it gets with Clint –I think Lucky peed in the shower.” 

“When did he get another dog?” Nat peers at the corgi and Lucky barks loudly. 

‘Just today! My human came home like this! See?’ He grins letting his tongue loll out. 

Clint seems to be trying to tuck his stumpy corgi tail between his legs looking hung as he yips at Nat. 

“A neighbour said Lucky brought him home.” Phil shrugs, “We can’t just leave them there while Clint’s missing.” 

‘He’s not missing! He’s right here!’ Lucky tugs on the leash and barks. 

“Then they’re staying with you -,” Nat starts as Couslon tries to hush the one-eyed dog at his feet. 

“Clint is still out there,” Phil protests. 

“And we’re still looking for him. Stark’s pulled up any footage of the fight he can find, Sam’s out canvassing the neighbourhood but we couldn’t find the weapon that creep of the week shot him with. Bruce is trying to get any trace evidence off Clint’s uniform and bow -,” Natasha’s assurance doesn’t seem to be reassuring Phil Coulson. 

Clint the Corgi starts squirming and yapping when he hears about his stuff. Lucky knows he hates it when anyone touches his bow. Maybe Clint should have just peed on it if he wanted other humans to know it was his. Honestly. Phil rubs a warm hand over the corgi’s ears in smooth motions, his eyes never leaving Nat –that seems to calm his human down. Lucky smells the stress rising from him in waves; he’s not thrilled with Nat’s list.

“We’re doing our best and Clint is going to be found, but you’ve been on your feet for close to forty hours. Take a shower, take a nap, eat something and come back with fresh eyes.” She gives him a look that tells him there’s no argument and Lucky whines. 

Phil looks down at the puppy in his arms; Clint’s big round eyes doing nothing to hold his resolve. Phil Coulson was powerless to Clint’s puppy eyes as a human –as an actual puppy he’s a lethal weapon. 

“Fine. Five hours -,” 

“Ten.” Nat barters. 

“Seven.” Phil tries to barter back. 

“Ten.” She’s not having it. 

‘You’ll never win an argument with a cat’ Lucky boofs and sure enough Phil folds. 

“Ten.” He agrees. “But if you find anything –anything, Natasha,” 

“You will know.” She agrees, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder before she moves past him towards the elevators and is gone. 

In the silence Phil Coulson sighs. “JARVIS –please have someone send up dog food and supplies.” 

“Of course, Agent Coulson.” The ceiling voice pipes up. Phil Coulson must be magic if he can make voices appear out of thin air. Humans are just full of surprises. 

“Looks like it’s just us.” Phil says to the puppy in his arms. Clint whines and tries to snuggle closer to Phil getting more grit onto his suit jacket. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” He mutters, “Clint is going to be paying my dry cleaning bill when he gets back.” 

Phil Coulson has rooms in the tower that smell like him and his suits and laundry detergent and coffee and shoe polish. It’s much less cluttered than the apartment where Lucky and Clint live –for one thing there’s no pizza box under the couch (Lucky checked). The fridge doesn’t smell like stale take out and there aren’t nice stinky shoes for Lucky to put his nose in. Lucky decides he likes his own home better.  
Phil hesitates before putting Clint the corgi on the floor, eyeing his messy fur and dirty paws. There’s a smudge of dirt on the puppy’s snout and Phil sighs. 

“Bath time.” 

Now Lucky has lots of favourite things. Lots and lots. Like at least ten. But Bath time is not one of them ranked just after the V-E-T. Bath time is when you have to stand in the tub and get stinky soap scrubbed into your fur and you’re not supposed to shake off until after the suds are gone and -,  
Lucky forgets he’s still on a leash and winds up tugging Phil a little in his back peddle towards the door. 

“Come on, Lucky, it’s bath time.” Phil Coulson is trying to sound reassuring but Lucky bets he’s never been bathed. His human is starting to squirm a little too but Phil’s a determined man and soon the bathroom door is closed behind them. Lucky is doomed.

The rush of warm water wets the tub and he whines morosely. Surely this isn’t going to help turn his human back. Surely this is a misunderstanding. Lucky’s a good dog, he doesn’t need a bath -,  
Water and suds fly as Lucky tries to make his escape. Phil Coulson has his white sleeves rolled up and his tie folded neatly on the toilet seat. He’s trying to keep Lucky in the tub and Clint the puppy from getting stepped on by the bigger blond dog in his haste. On his third try for freedom Lucky gets to the door and shakes sending suds and mucky water sailing through the air. 

“No, no –Lucky-!” Phil Coulson tries to shield himself but the walls and the bathroom mirror aren’t so fortunate. When Lucky’s finished and his fur is sticking wetly at odd angles, Phil drops his arms and sighs; accepting his defeat leaving the one-eyed dog to whine sadly by the door while he finishes up with the corgi. Clint seems to be much better behaved; only putting his paws up on the edge of the tub to peek out at the drenched room as Phil rubs the grime from his short coat. He seems to be actually enjoying all the attention, nosing at Phil’s hands and wagging his stumpy tail (which just ends in a full corgi butt wiggle). Lucky can barely believe it. His human is terrible at being a dog. 

‘Traitor.’ Lucky whines sadly. 

The hair dryer roars to life and Lucky snaps at the hot air streaming out as Phil rubs a clean towel down his back. His human shakes some of the water off as he’s lifted from the tub but the room is a lost cause. Clint’s soft tan fur looks fluffier and much cleaner after the bath and blow dryer. Phil Coulson, on the other hand, looks more than exhausted as he walks them back towards the kitchen and Lucky feels like a bad dog. If Phil is too tired he’ll not be able to help Clint. 

Two bowls of dog kibble and a big bowl of water appear and for a moment all is forgotten. You’re not getting anywhere on an empty stomach and even his human seems to think so because he’s eating the food a little faster this time. When Clint was finished he hobbled over on still-wobbly paws to where Phil had dropped himself to the soft leather couch. He looks tired and sad and lonely –like someone took his pizza box from him and refused to give it back. 

Clint the corgi nips and tugs at Phil’s Captain America pattered socks and the man lifts him up onto his lap. 

“What are we going to do, huh?” He asks the man-turned puppy. “You guys must be pretty worried too –but Clint’s always turned up before.” 

Lucky woofs, walking over to lie down at Phil Coulson’s feet. 

“I wish I knew how to fix this.” Phil sighs, petting the corgi in his lap and Lucky’s heart drops, “one of these days I’m going to have to grow a pair and tell him how much he means to me –how much I love him –before he goes and disappears for good.” 

The one-eyed dog watches as Clint the corgi whines and licks Phil’s cheek softly and he decides. Phil Coulson loves his human, Lucky knows that. But Phil Coulson doesn’t know how to put Clint back the way he’s supposed to and that means it’s up to him. Lucky is on his own. Getting to his paws the sandy blond dog trots out of the room towards the kitchen like he’s going for more water, but instead he detours back towards the metal box doors. Now just to get them open. One thing Lucky would give humans was their hands were very good at opening things –like canned food or doors. Scratching his claws lightly against the buffed metal he whines a little. 

“It seems you are in need of some assistance.” The ceiling voice speaks up and Lucky backs away from the doors, eyeing the walls suspiciously. But when the entrance to the metal box slides soundlessly open he sees his chance. 

“My online searches suggest that canines need to be let out periodically to allow for bowel and bladder relief. I will return you to the main floor and alert Mr. Stark to let you back into the building.” Phil Coulson had called the voice a Jarvis, but Lucky is just happy to be going down down down back the way he came. Outside is what he needs, outside will have answers –he hopes. 

He knows his idiot will be safe with Phil Coulson who loves him.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucky’s a brave dog. 

This is his first time out all by himself without Clint or Katie-Kate or the nice lady from next door. Out here is much smellier than the tower or even Clint’s place. Lucky’s nose is full of exhaust, grass, hot pavement and cigarettes –worn shoes, garbage, other dogs and lots of people smells. 

The city he and his human live in is big –and Lucky’s territory makes up only a small part of it. He’s not even sure where to begin. 

But his biggest worry out here is that he’ll get lost and not be able to find his way back to his human, and that he’ll never hear the sound Clint found for him again until he forgets it himself. And then he won’t be ‘Lucky’ anymore, he won’t be anyone and he’ll be all alone. 

At least when he was with Phil Coulson at the tower or with the nice lady next door they remembered his sound. But out here? There’s no one. 

Lucky whines and tries very hard not to think about it. 

He’ll find how to help Clint and he’ll get back to Phil Coulson at the tower and Clint will be a human again and it will be okay. It will. 

The pavement is hot under his paws and Lucky’s got his nose to the ground –not sure what he’s looking for but certain he’ll know it when he smells it. He’s walked with Clint to the tower three times and there has to be some clue around here somewhere.

Lucky growls a warning when the humans passing get too close –he’s busy and this is no time for pets. His human needs him. But as the sun sinks lower into the city sky Lucky finds he’s back at his apartment building and no closer to answers. This will not do. 

He takes a moment to pee on a few of his favoured landmarks –a lamp post, a mail box and on the side of the building –just to be safe. He hasn’t gotten to pee on them in the last day and he doesn’t want some other dog shouldering in on his and Clint’s turf. It wouldn’t do to have Clint come back to find another dog living here. 

‘Dumb dog’

Lucky looks up to find the old cat from downstairs giving him a board look from atop the low wall surrounding the dumpsters set out beside the apartment building. It’s a short haired cat with pointed ears and a little white on its chin. One of its ears is torn and it has extra toes on each front paw. Lucky wonders if that means the cat is extra magical –it having thumbs and all like the humans do.

Those paws may look soft but Lucky knows they hold small needle-like claws. The cat is old but it’s not slow. And it doesn’t like Lucky very much. 

‘I’m not dumb, I’m Lucky –I’m a good dog’ He woofs, letting his tail wag slowly. Cat doesn’t seem impressed. 

‘And I suppose the humans have just let a ‘good dog’ like you out all by yourself?’ The cat yawns. 

‘The ceiling voice let me out. My human is a dog now –but not a very good one –and I’m gonna help him be human again so we can eat pizza.’ The one eyed dog tries to explain. 

‘Humans don’t become animals, dumb dog’ Cat starts washing his front paws, ‘unless…’

Lucky cocks his head to the side and thumps his tail against the ground. If the old cat from downstairs knows something maybe it will help him help his idiot human. 

‘Unless you believe the birds. They’ve been singing about a stick that gives people fur,’ Cat stretches, and each sharp claw extends to scratch against the brick wall ‘I caught one and ate its head.’ 

‘Stick! Where’s the stick!’ Lucky barks, his ear perk up and he’s stepping gingerly from paw to paw with excitement. Finally he has a clue. 

‘Or you could always try True Love’s kiss –the humans love that sort of thing.’ The cat observes. 

‘Stick!’ Lucky barks. Kisses are great but sticks are definitely one of Lucky’s favorite things. 

‘The bird sang about a dumpster before I left his body on my human’s bed –she seemed upset by my gift and banished me outside.’ Cat curls its paws underneath its body to sit on the wall, eyes slanting closed. 

But Lucky doesn’t care about the bird or the old cat’s banishment, he has a clue! The stick must be how he can turn Clint back! He’s off like a shot around the building following his nose to find the dumpster. 

‘Dumb dog.’ The cat sighs before nodding off for a nap on the wall. 

As it turns out there are many dumpsters in the very big city Clint and Lucky live in. Many, many dumpsters. And all of them smell very tempting even before Lucky was looking for a stick that gives humans fur –all crammed full of garbage and cardboard and stinky stuff he’d love to roll in. Especially since Phil Coulson just gave him a bath. Nothing is better than rolling in hot garbage after a bath. It’s got to be Lucky’s sixth favorite thing. 

But Lucky’s busy right now and he doesn’t have time –alright, he can’t help himself when he comes across some particularly foul smelling trash, he gets one good roll in before resuming his search. There’s no need to waste good garbage. Clint would understand.

The sun is set by the time Lucky stops to eat some pizza he found in one of the bins he’s been sniffing. This search isn’t going that well. Maybe he should have asked the old cat from downstairs what dumpster or what the stick looked like. 

It would help if Lucky could see in colour. 

With the night his fear of being forgotten crawls back in like fleas, nipping at his nerves and making Lucky whine sadly. He’s trying so hard, he just can’t go back to the tower with nothing to show for it. Clint’s counting on him. 

His paws are starting to hurt when he finally finds it. The dumpster looks ordinary but it smells like chemicals instead of nice rotting garbage. Lucky huffs out a sneeze as he pears behind the metal bin to find a glowing stick –like the ones the BROs pointed at people. Those were not like the sticks Lucky likes, they make a lot of noise and people scream when they go off. Lucky remembers one of the BROs pointing a stick at him and shouting something but that was before Clint saved him and found him a new sound. 

This stick is different; it’s got a glowing center and is just a bit bigger. It smells like the human who had his greasy hands all over it –Lucky isn’t sure he wants to carry it back but he needs this stick that gives people fur. He’ll bear it for Clint.   
Pressing himself to the warm cement of the ally floor, the sandy dog sticks a paw between the dumpster and the wall and tries to gently swat the stick towards him and out where he can get it. The thing rattles a little against the ground as it’s dragged but it doesn’t go off. 

Carefully taking his find in his teeth, Lucky prances back towards the mouth of the ally –and right into Nat. 

“Found him, Stark –and he stinks. You’re Lucky Barton had him microchiped or he’d be furious you lost his dog. Looks like he’s got something -,” Lucky’s not sure who Nat is talking to but the woman reaches and gently takes the stick from him. He whines as a leash is snapped onto his collar and Nat walks him back towards a waiting car. 

‘No-! That’s the stick that changed my human! Clint needs that!’ But she’s not listening, bundling the protesting dog into the back of the vehicle. 

“You’re going to need to have this car cleaned when we get back, Tony,” Nat’s voice smiles as she gets behind the wheel and drives them back towards the tower –Lucky howling sadly in the back seat the whole way home. 

The metal box rides them up up up back to Phil Coulson’s floor. The man still looks exhausted even in sleep pants and a warn Rangers t-shirt. He’s carrying Clint the corgi in his arms, holding the pup close to his broad chest as he meets Nat and Lucky. 

“Thank you, Natasha.” He sighs taking Lucky’s leash and wrinkling his nose at the smell. 

“Don’t think me yet –I think he rolled in garbage.” She says and Lucky tries to glare at her with his one eye for ratting him out. 

“Another bath.” Phil Coulson speaks the dreaded words. 

“Don’t want to get your hopes up, Coulson, but it looks like he found something while he was out there. Bruce and Tony will let us know more once they’ve picked it apart.” Nat says but Lucky isn’t listening. The stick is gone and he’s going to be bathed again. His paws ache from running all over town and now he can’t change Clint back.

“I’m coming down -,” Phil starts to protest. 

“No, you aren’t. You still have a few more hours left and you look like you need to sleep for a year.” She argues. 

“We all need to sleep for a year but Clint could be out there hurt or-,” 

“We are going to find him, Phil, but you’re not seeing this objectively. You haven’t been objective when it comes to Clint in a very long time.” She fixes him with a look, “And wearing yourself into the ground is not going to do anyone any good. Rest for two more hours and then you can come back to this.” 

Of course there’s no winning an argument with a cat. Phil Coulson loses this one again –rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. 

“Fine. Two more hours.” He concedes. 

“Get some rest, Phil.” Nat says, leaving him once again with the dogs. Lucky’s tail tucks between his legs as Phil pulls him towards the bathroom for the second time today. 

This time Lucky is a good dog and doesn’t fight Phil as soap is scrubbed into his stinky fur. He only shakes off once and sadly submits to the blow-dryer. Clint stays by Phil’s side the whole time, scoring a few pets from Phil’s warn hands.   
Lucky misses Clint’s warn hands on his fur –scratching that place behind his ear.  
He wonders if he’ll ever feel that again. 

Phil puts out fresh food and water for the dogs but Lucky’s not feeling that hungry. Phil Coulson looks just as tired as Lucky feels and soon he’s trudging towards his bedroom –Clint following at his heels. Lucky sighs and walks along after them –he’d rather not be alone tonight. 

Clint is trying valiantly to jump up onto the bed but his legs are too short to allow for the leap. He yips and tugs at the bedspread until Phil Coulson takes pity on the pup and lifts him up onto the mattress. 

“Just for tonight.” The agent cautions, but even Lucky knows how that game ends. He takes his cue and jumps up too –Phil looks like he’ll protest but just groans in defeat, reaching over to turn the beside lamp off.

Phil Coulson is asleep by the time his head hits the pillow. Lucky, on the other hand, can’t sleep at all. The day keeps playing through his head in a loop like the time he tried chasing his own tail. There just had to be something he’s missing. Something he’s overlooked. 

And then he catches it. 

True Love’s kiss.

It’s worth a try. At this point it’s all Lucky has. 

Clint’s curled himself up in the crook between Phil’s shoulder and neck, his soft puppy sides rising and falling in sleep. His back leg twitches a little as he dreams. Lucky wiggles his way forward on the sheets to nudge the pup’s head forward until his nose is pressed to Phil Coulson’s lips. 

Nothing happens right away but Lucky thinks there might be a delayed reaction. The morning will tell and he allows himself to drift off to sleep.   
***

‘I hate to disturb you, Agent Coulson, but Mr. Stark is insisting you come downstairs.’ JARVIS says, ‘Mr. Stark is requesting you bring the corgi down to the lab.’ 

Phil Coulson groans, blinking awake to find the pup inches from his face. Fantastic. Dog breath. The bed is extra warm what with two dogs to share it with –this was not how Phil was thinking his week would go. He’s exhausted but awake now; mind whirring around in circles about Clint and where he might be and if he’s hurt or worse -, 

“Stark wants me to bring the dog?” That’s a little odd and he could use a cup of coffee before he can sort the pieces out. It’s only 3am. 

“Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner believe they’ve solved the mystery of Agent Barton’s whereabouts.” JARVIS says and that has Phil out of bed. He scoops the pup –who he now realizes has wet the sheets. Lucky’s out like a light as Coulson groans. He’ll have to deal with the sheets later. 

“So lucky you’re cute.” He grumbles, lifting the pup up to look him in the eye. The corgi tries to wag his stumpy tail and lean forward to lick Phil’s cheek. 

“Barton’s a dog.” Tony says without much explanation to the waiting group. Nat and Sam look tired and more than a little confused and Phil…Phil needs a cup of coffee before talking to Tony Stark. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve straightens up from the lab table he’s been leaning on. 

“We believe the weapon fired at Barton turned him into a dog.” Bruce explains. 

“That dog.” Tony points to the corgi held close to Phil’s chest. 

All eyes are suddenly pointed his way as Coulson lifts the pup a little to really look at him. All this time they’d been looking for Clint –all this time he’d been right here? Phil’s been carrying him around all day-? 

Oh no. 

He told Clint he loves him. Something he’s been meaning to since their first mission together, something he wanted to plan just right. Instead he confessed it to Clint when he was a dog. Right after he bathed Clint and fed him dog food –oh this was not how he planned it at all. 

Phil school’s his face so it doesn’t burst into an embarrassing flush of pink. 

“We found corgi hairs on his uniform.”Bruce says, “After testing the hairs we found that despite being dog hairs they still have Clint’s human DNA –which makes no scientific sense but -,” 

“But what in our lives makes sense.” Steve sighs. 

“Barton –bark once for yes and twice for no.” Stark leans in close and says. Clint the corgi gurrs a little and Tony abruptly backs off causing Sam and Nat to grin. “Well, his brain must be a little scrambled still –but we’ll have him back to his old bow-slinging self in no time.” 

Phil’s a little reluctant to give Clint over to Bruce; the archer’s big round puppy eyes stare up at Coulson as he’s taken away. Phil doesn’t want to give him up –it’s not like Clint would want Phil to hold him as a human. But already Tony’s pointing the glowing gun-like weapon at Barton and pulling the trigger washing the room in a flash of light. 

And there he is. 

Bruce is offering Clint a spare shirt and sweatpants to wear, JARVIS is running a quick scan to make sure everything’s where it should be, Tony’s ribbing the archer about his experience as a dog while the others bid their goodnights –or good mornings as the case may be. Clint doesn’t need a crowd. 

Phil doesn’t leave though; he stays like he’s done for every other mission Clint’s come back hurt from. Arms folded lightly across his chest, eyes watching every test Barton clears. He wishes he had his suit and tie on; the pressed cuffs his own armor. He feels a little bare right now without it. But no matter how off-kilter he feels, he’s determined to wait. 

Clint checks out fine after an hour of poking and prodding. Finally Bruce and Tony release him and the archer hops off the lab table to walk over towards Coulson who’s waiting for him. The fond look Clint gives isn’t lost on Phil but he’s still embarrassed about his accidental confession –and the sort-of day they spent together.   
As they start to walk towards the elevator doors, Clint slots his calloused hand into Phil’s and for a moment Phil’s heart clenches. 

“My memory of the last day or so is kinda spotty –but I do remember you wanting to tell me something.” Clint smiles.

“I do –and I wish I’d told you before.” Phil says, it’s too late to take it back now and there’s no point hiding it. This is what he wanted, his chance to tell Clint how much he cares, “I wanted -Clint, I wanted to tell you,”

“Good, cause you mean a lot to me too.” Clint admits, “And I don’t wanna make this awkward or anything, but falling asleep and waking up next to you has to be the best thing ever.” 

“Clint-,” Phil isn’t sure how to make the words come out right. 

“I know I was a dog, though, and that’s totally different so I’m not gonna hold you to-,” But Phil gives up on words and silences Clint with a kiss. Actions speak louder anyway. 

“Will you have breakfast with me?” Phil asks, pulling away enough to catch his breath. 

***

Lucky wakes up to the smell of pizza and the sound of warm voices out in the kitchen. He was so tired from his long run that he had passed out beside Phil Coulson and Clint and hadn’t even stirred when they left. But the sound of his human’s voice has him up. 

Clint! 

His human is back!

Lucky’s out of the bedroom and into the kitchen barking and jumping up onto Clint’s lap leaving wet slobbery doggy kisses on his cheeks. His tail is wagging so hard that his back end might come off but it worked! True Love’s kiss worked! The old cat from downstairs was right! Lucky did his best and now Clint is human again! He’s so happy he doesn’t know if he should sing or pee himself. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good to see you too, Lucky.” Clint grins, pushing the dog off his lap to pet his head and scratch lightly between his ears just right. The dog really did miss his human; but here he is on two feet and saying the sound he found just for Lucky. 

He’d give up all his favorite things just to have this. 

A warm piece of pepperoni pizza is placed on the floor and the one-eyed dog digs in happily. 

“He got into quite a bit of trouble yesterday.” Phil Coulson smiles fondly at Lucky’s human. His stressed smell is finally gone though he still looks like he could use a nap. But the way Clint reaches across the table to hold his hand tells Lucky that things are more than alright between them. 

Clint’s smiles, “Naw –Lucky’s a good dog.”


End file.
